Currying No Favor

For dessert, we fished out golden, deep-fried balls of gulab jamun bobbing in a vat of sugary syrup. Crisp outside, spongy and cakelike inside, the balls of dough, milk and sweet cheese were much like fritters, delicately scented with cardamom and rosewater. The gulab was good; our mistake was in also scooping up bowls of the kheer. "Yow!" yelped my friend. "What the hell is that?" The sweet rice pudding was so astringently flavored that his eyes watered. It wasn't just the cardamom and cinnamon; there was something else in there we couldn't identify that tasted like sunscreen lotion or room deodorizer, we couldn't decide which. It was too scary to contemplate further.

"You know, I read somewhere that Houston has some of the best Indian restaurants in the country," said one of my friends, trying to jolly our dispirited group. "Ours are even better than the ones in New York City." I think that's what she was saying, anyway, as the piped-in Hammond organ had just launched into an ear-splitting rendition of the theme from Phantom of the Opera. Maybe what she read is true, but I'm afraid Classic Tandoor isn't the place to test the theory. All it taught me, alas, was a fresh appreciation for Ravi Shankar.

The Classic Tandoor, 10001 Westheimer in the Carillon Center, (713)532-3131